An Angel's Embrace
by starlightxlilies
Summary: After Christine has floated away with Raoul, Erik is left to contemplate his sins. Meg Giry runs to find her friend and finds someone else instead.
1. Chapter 1

She ran.

Meg Giry raced ahead of everyone else who had come to capture the Phantom of the Opera with their torches and hatred. But she ran for another reason entirely. She was worried about her dear friend, Christine, who had been taken down into these very catacombs by the hideous man with the voice of angels. The dark waters splashed beneath her tall boots and her golden hair flew lightly behind her as she approached the chamber lit by candles and draped with soft curtains. Meg slowed down a bit to stare in awe at the place, a vision of elegance and refined taste. She had always imagined what the Phantom's inner chambers would look like, and she had imagined meeting him as well.

Madame Giry knew him, and knew his pain, though she had always been careful to shield her daughter from the Phantom, letting him love Christine instead. However, she could barely shield Meg from the Phantom. Meg had been obsessed with him ever since her mother told her his story. Throughout Christine's entire ordeal with the Opera Ghost, Meg had always wondered what she would do, were she in Christine's place. Secretly, she had imagined the dark man's arms around her instead of around Christine, and sometimes, if she listened, she could hear him singing in his catacombs, a lonely mourn, a call for someone to hear him. She heard.

Memories of what she knew of the Phantom flashed through Meg's mind as she explored his room, decorated with various artistic venues and touched with depictions of Christine around the desks. He had truly loved her. Meg looked around, her blue eyes searching for something she could not name. She had wanted to see him for herself, this man that had so captivated her friend. She wanted to stare into his sad eyes as Christine had done, and try to understand him, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, she saw it, the spotless white mask lying on the table near the lake.

Meg walked over wonderingly and picked it up. She felt as if he were watching her, and she looked up, half-expecting to see those sad, piercing eyes, but there was no one there. She walked towards the broken mirrors as she heard the voices of the others growing nearer, and before they could see, she slipped behind the cracks of a tall mirror that looked like a doorway.

The voices grew fainter in the distance as she walked on. It was a threshold to a dark tunnel, much like the one she had previously tried to enter, long ago when Christine had first been taken by the Phantom and Meg had gone looking for her. This tunnel had no torches to light the way, and the damp walls were slick and foreboding, threatening to close in on her. She was undeterred though, and something compelled her to keep moving forward. Meg was curious, and she was brave, though she appeared to be a fragile girl, she was a headstrong woman, like her mother.

A rat scurried by her foot and Meg cried out, her voice echoing through the dark tunnel. There was no light anymore, no illumination whatsoever. She was soon encompassed in total darkness. However, she was lucky, for the tunnel did not have any turns or dead ends. It continued in a straight path, and presently, she began to see an opening encased in blue light. She slowed her pace, not wishing to be showered by immediate brightness after traveling in bleak darkness for so long.

Meg found that she had stepped into a room, though it looked more like a cold cell. There was a barred window ten feet high from which the moonlight shown through and the gleaming walls were radiating a bluish hue. Suddenly, Meg shivered. She turned to her left, hearing a slight sound, and to her astonishment there was a figure huddled on the floor. She almost screamed from her surprise and fright. The figure did not move, and she was afraid she had stumbled upon some sort of corpse. However, she saw that the shape was moving, ever so slightly, the form rising up and down in breaths. So it was a person.

With shock, Meg realized who it was, the man she had been longing to see, to catch a glimpse of in private. The Phantom. Perhaps he had not realized she was near? Meg frowned. She had been fairly quiet walking in, but her footsteps had made plenty of noise nonetheless, and a man such as he, with musical talent and a fine ear, would surely have heard her. She wondered if he even cared anymore.

Gathering up her courage, she stepped forward towards the huddled figure, kneeling beside him hesitantly. She cocked her head to one side, leaning in closer to him, her golden hair falling like a curtain. With a shaky voice she murmured, "Excuse me, Sir?" and she waited for his reply, but none came. She frowned a bit, her soft cheeks slightly burning from embarrassment and shyness. With trembling hands she brought his mask closer to him. "I have something of yours," she began, a bit more confident, "would you like it back?"

Without lifting his head, the man spoke with a hollow voice, "I want nothing from you. There is only one thing I now desire," he paused as an image of Christine came into his mind, her large brown eyes close to tears as she gave him a last, pitying look before she left with her lover. Then he spoke again, "and that is, to be left alone."

Meg's lips parted slightly and her eyes brimmed a bit with tears, though they did not fall. She could not remove her gaze from his broken form, a man reduced to such tatters. It was not his clothes that were in tatters, it was his soul, his heart, and even his voice. He was a broken man, who now wanted to be left alone, not because of his face, but because of his shame and guilt at what he had done. Without thinking, Meg said, "Erik," softly but tenderly, and the man gasped, surprised at hearing his real name uttered on her lips.

His head rose up to look at her, and she saw that he had been crying, the tears still fresh on his face, gleaming on his cheeks, both the smooth one, and the ghastly one. Upon hearing his name spoken aloud his face had changed, as if he were begging her for something, looking up to her beautiful face as the moonlight shone behind her, making her appear to glow, like an angel in the darkness. He could not speak, he only stared at her, a pained expression on his face, the need to be forgiven plaguing his heart.

Suddenly she smiled at him. A warm, genuine smile. Her soft cheeks glowed and her eyes twinkled merrily, making him feel unworthy of such light and beauty. She was not as deeply beautiful as Christine had been, but Meg Giry possessed a happy spirit inside her that shone like a beacon in the darkness. Erik almost cried again, though he only sobbed without tears. He didn't know how it happened, but he soon found himself in the girl's embrace, her soft arms wrapped around him in protection and her head resting on his right shoulder, so close to his deformity. It was then that he allowed himself to cry, fresh tears streaming down his face, dripping onto the cold stony floor.

He felt the girl trembling and realized that she was crying too, she was crying...for him. His heart ached when he realized this last fact and his soul was warmed by the notion. She was crying tears of sorrow for him, tears of pity and love. She was holding him like a wounded animal in the wilderness. He sighed deeply, contented, releasing all his pent-up anger and pain through the tears that were rapidly streaming from his eyes. She cared. She was here, now, comforting him, letting him cry. Why, why hadn't he met someone like her years ago, when he had been wishing desperately for someone to hear his cries of anguish? Where was she when he had been tortured and beaten, or when he had lain alone in the dark catacombs of the theatre, huddled in the damp cold without anyone to care for him.

She had a good heart, this girl. He smiled a bit. Meg was so much like her mother.

Blinking hard, he tried to stop his tears now, and he lifted his head a bit to stare into her eyes. They were very close now, his face so very close to hers, and still she did not flinch or turn away from his ugliness, nor did she stare it. By no means did she try to avoid looking at it, and he was confused by the way she was looking at him. Not quite at his deformity, but not quite at his handsome side either, she was seeing him for who he was, she saw all of him.

"Little Angel," he finally spoke in a hoarse whisper. It was nothing like his usual seductive voice, dark and overpowering. This was a timid voice, full of vulnerability and innocence. Meg's hand dropped his mask on the floor and rose up to hold his face. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead gently with soft lips. They both closed their eyes at the contact and he sighed.

Then, Meg guided his head towards her lap, and he lay down as she stroked his soft hair soothingly. Closing her eyes she whispered, "Stay with me tonight, and I shall protect you. For this moment, let go all your pain, for I shall forgive you for your sins. Let me hold you in this first embrace, so that you may rest without thought or worry. Rest now, dear friend, forgive all, forget all."

Erik obeyed like a lost child, and he didn't know what to make of her, this...this beautiful girl. She was like a mother protecting her baby, a sister looking out for her brother, a friend caring for a friend, and a woman embracing her man. He did as she told him, forgetting everything for that brief moment, for this one night. He would stay with her; he would fall asleep in her arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Meg awoke to the sound of a flurry of wings as pigeons flew overhead. She knew she was inside, somewhere, and that there was a window near her, but her sleepy eyes refused to open...yet. She moaned softly, still trying to dream of something she had forgotten about as soon as she had awoken. As she shifted, stretching like a cat, she realized she was underneath a blanket, though it was not her own. This one was silken and light, and it was warm and cool at the same time.

A bit worried now, Meg's mind joggled a bit, demanding that she try to remember what she was doing in this foreign place. In a flash, the previous night came back to her. She had found the Phantom-no, Erik. She had found Erik alone and huddled in the darkness, and she had stayed with him.

Her eyes finally opened and there was bright sunlight streaming through a low window to her right. She sat up, looking around and realized she was not in a room at all, it was a large chamber with many columns, and what she had thought was a window was just another opening between the stones. Meg frowned. Where was she?

Presently, she heard a loud bell being rung, and the noise of it was immense. Those bells were familiar, and she realized where she was. The Cathedral of Notre Dame. It was not too far from the theatre, since both presided in Paris, but still, the girl wondered how she had gotten there in the first place. Had Erik taken her here? Scanning the room again, she was dismayed to find that there was no trace of the man. She began to wonder if it had been a dream, but then why would she be here, of all places?

Quietly, she rose up and walked towards an armoire that had been built into the wall. Perhaps this place was inhabited. There was a letter darted into the wood with a sharp feather, and the familiar seal of a dark red skull. Meg gasped unintentionally and her small lips pressed together as she swallowed. Carefully she unpinned the note and breathlessly sat back down where she had previously been sleeping. She had never been allowed to open the waxen seal; it had always been her mother who had taken the letters dropped down from the Phantom. Meg had always thought it was strange that the letters flew down, as if from heaven, though the person giving them was not the angel he claimed to be.

She opened the letter a bit awkwardly, the cracked seal still a bit soft. Had this letter been sealed…recently?

The note inside had smooth, inky handwriting and there was not a single botch on the page. She read it, entranced:

_My Dearest Friend,_

_I never knew I would find an ally in you, in such a bright, sweet child. I had resigned myself to living a life in loneliness once again, my heart torn from me one last time. I had been lost, a broken man, but you found me. Even now I as I write these words, watching you in your peaceful slumber, I am afraid to look into your eyes when you awaken. Will they be the same, kind blue eyes? _

_Will you still give me your trusting heart in the light of day, when my elegance is lost? You are a woman of the day, an angel of sunlight. I cannot stay in your brilliance, and I cannot bring you down into my nighttime as I once did Christine. _

_In truth, I am again lost; for I know not what to do with you, except to thank you for your kindness. Did you know that when I woke up, I was crying? It had been in my sleep, and when I awoke, the tears had frozen on my cheeks, because you were holding me, I felt so safe from the world, as if you were my mask. But I was not afraid to show you my ugliness._

_Dear Angel of the Sun, to you, I can only offer my gratitude and humble friendship. I do not know how to live. In my heart, I am still a boy, angry at the world, and who has suddenly been calmed by the kiss of beauty. Christine helped me calm my torment, but now that my search for beauty is over, I do not know how to live anymore. I need to be forgiven for my sins, and this is why you have awoken at Notre Dame. I am here, though you cannot see me yet. _

_I am asking for pardon, I want to be a new man, though I will suffer again for the crimes I have committed. I will not ask you to stay with me as I learn to live again, but I ask for your guidance and warm smile that has proven a light in the darkness of my heart. _

_I have sent a note to your mother so she knows that you are safe. You may return to her today if you wish, but tonight, please wait for me in this tower above the streets of Paris. I will come with the setting of the sun and give you a proper farewell. Until twilight ends, rest well, dearest friend._

_--Erik_

Meg had experienced a range of emotions as she had read the letter, but the strongest was joy. He was trying to better his life by being forgiven for his sins. And he was coming to see her tonight! Meg was a bit saddened at the thought of having to bid him farewell, and so she sat for a moment longer, wondering what she would say to him when he arrived. Did he truly wish to say good bye? He had called her his dearest friend, she warmed at the thought. Meg wanted to stay with him, to help him and fill the chasm in his heart that Christine had left behind. But, would he let her?

The girl sighed and rose up again, tucking the note away in a breast pocket. She was not going to let him say good bye to her, she would stay with him. With this new resolve, she walked up the armoire again, this time, opening it. Meg breathed with amazement as she stared at the gorgeous gowns that were inside. There were seven of them, all complimenting the tone of her skin and bringing out the color in her eyes and hair. Meg had a suspicion that they had not been placed there at random. The dresses were either blue, pink, white or silver, rustling with new fabric and sparkling beads.

She dared not try them on, for fear of ruining them, but just as she was closing the armoire, she caught a gleam in the corner of her eye and opened the doors once again. There, hidden beneath the folds of the white and blue gowns was another dress. It was also white, though it was a shade lighter. Reaching out for it, Meg wondered why she had not noticed it before. It had a beauty that was well-hidden, and one had to look twice before catching it. She pulled it out and was awe-struck at the intricacy of the design. A simple glance would have dismissed the gown as ordinary, but looking closer there were delicate floral patterns stitched into the bodice, and there were diamonds intricately laced together in a veneer of white daylilies. Pale satin lined the borders of the corset and wrapped around middle ending in a small bow behind the waist. The gown of the dress spread out in a wide array of fabric, and the petticoat slashed in the middle to boast the elaborate embroidery sewn into the folding cloth in the pattern of songbirds as they took flight. Small pearls lined the outer edges of the petticoat and light threads of lapis lazuli stitched tiny blue flowers into the hem of the gown. The dress had been cut so that there were thin, lacy sleeves that only covered the shoulders. Draped over this were long silken, snowy gloves edged in stitches of jasmines, tiny and white.

Meg knew that this was the gown she was to wear when Erik came to meet her that night. Suddenly, it dawned on her that he had signed the note _Erik_ instead of _Opera Ghost _or _Phantom_, and this made her smile to herself. He was a different man now.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o

As the day wore on, Meg had decided not to visit her mother yet, and to stay in the chamber overlooking the River Seine. Upon further exploration of the room, she found a warm meal awaiting her, and some bread and cheese for later. All this he had done in one night? Meg marveled at the man's attention to detail and the speed with which he performed his various tasks. It was as if bringing her to the cathedral had been a plan, not a spontaneous event. But that was unlikely, the man was simply adroit at such endeavors, which made him all the more mysterious and remarkable.

It was now mid-afternoon, and she sat near the opening, watching the people down below and the sunlight dancing on the river. By this time, she had already put on the dress, its size fitting her perfectly, though she wasn't surprised. She had not known what to do with her hair, and decided to let it fall naturally. It was a simple contrast to her intricate gown, and she wanted to seem a bit casual.

The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky and the pinkish hue of the world at that moment made the girl a bit drowsy as she sat, waiting for the sun to go down, though she did not sleep. There was another flurry of wings and more pigeons flew from their tall perches above her. She had not noticed that they had been cooing softly until they were gone, and now everything was silent. Even the townspeople below her were setting off towards their houses in rest for the coming night. As the activity around her died away and ebbed, Meg felt a growing excitement inside.

Her thoughts drifted to when Christine had first told her about the Angel of Music that had been whispering to her at night. Meg remembered shivering at the story because she had known all along who he was, though she had never told Christine. She remembered asking her, "Christine, do you believe?" And she had not asked the question in the curiosity of whether or not her friend believed in the existence of such a man, she had asked because she wanted to show the Phantom that he was deceiving her friend. Christine had said that she felt him, that he was watching them at that moment _here in this room, he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding_, she had said. Meg had known that as well, and she had asked Christine so that the Phantom would know that the girl believed he was an angel sent from her dead father. Christine did not know the Phantom as Meg did. She did not know that he was but a man, a genius, truly, but still only a man. One who had deceived himself and those around him into believing he was more than just that.

Suddenly, Meg heard a soft sound behind her. In her deep thoughts, she had not realized that the sun had already set and now the sky was a dark purple, slowly fading into blackness.

She tensed at the sound, frightened at first because the silence around her had been so overwhelming. But now she grinned a bit and turned towards the inside of the place.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite amie, ma cherie madmoiselle Giry," said Erik in his usual sultry voice. She was awestruck at his appearance, it was so different from his usual elegance and yet he held a certain refinement. His blond hair was no longer hidden in a black wig but combed back smoothly and tied at the end with a black ribbon. He wore half a cape on his left shoulder, and it too, was black, smoothly worn as if it had been pressed. His attire was a suit, with his familiar maroon vest. Nothing was flamboyant or cocky about his outfit anymore, he looked handsome, certainly, but more of an ordinary beauty rather than an uncanny one. He looked as if he were going to...the opera. And then his face, yes, there was his face. No longer was his hideousness hidden in a mask, nor was he trying to shy away from the moonlight that now struck it. He was exposing himself to her eyes, he was being so vulnerable and trusting, and this warmed the girl's heart.

He looked at her now, his green eyes staring at her in wonder, and even shyness. They were no longer frightening or blazing with madness, though they held a twinkle of mischief, as if he entertained the thought that he could easily manipulate her heart as he had done with Christine. Reaching out his hand from behind his back, Erik produced a rose.

It had not yet reached full bloom, though it was very close, and it was white, seeming to set off a glow of its own to compliment the moonlight. Around it, he had tied a white ribbon. This, he reached out to her, grinning to show a flash of his white teeth.

Meg took it wordlessly, her eyes fixated upon his own. He was mesmerizing, even now, and a true romantic at heart.

"Bonne nuit, homme de la nuit," smiled Meg.


	3. Chapter 3

Suddenly, without warning, he collapsed upon her, the white rose falling from her grasp onto the soft sheets she was sitting on. He was trembling again, his breath coming out raspy, and his cheek feeling cold against her neck. "E-Erik?" she murmured, afraid. She felt him close his eyes, _felt him_! As if she knew all of his movements without having to look upon him fully, as if already she understood more of him than anyone could have ever known. He seemed so big all of a sudden, so overwhelming large against her small frame, like a shadow that was enveloping her, trying to devour her heart. She shivered in spite of herself.

"Oh Meg!" he breathed out in despair. He was lost, running through the dark chasms of his mind, trying once again to find her light. He clung to her body, like an anchor, like a beacon, his only hope for returning to the surface. Where had this all come from? Meg began to wonder at it, he had seemed so genuine...normal even. Why was he now, all of a sudden, in so much pain? Her body reacted quickly though, blocking out all other thought. She closed her own arms around him, pressing him to her, feeding his icy grasp with her warmth. It didn't matter why he was in such anguish. All that mattered was that she was there to comfort him, to hold him as he yearned for something to hold on to. To be the woman that Christine never was. Meg felt a tearing in her own heart. Finally she let herself admit, she cared for him, this man, this thing at her side. She had wanted to find him herself, wanted to see with her own eyes that which drove brave men away with fear and terror. She had wanted to stare into the cold depths of this phantom and wrench him from the darkness that tried to consume his heart.

Now here she was, holding him to the world as he stumbled over the edge of it.

There was a silence about the room, and if one happened to be walking by, one would see two figures, huddled close together in complete silence and stillness, like a picture. It may have seemed as if they were both asleep or frozen in time, but that would have been a wrong assumption. What they both truly felt at that moment was profoundly different, an exchange was taking place. A man begging for warmth and a woman giving her all to him through her embrace. A child's heart, crying out for someone to protect him, and her, with her soft arms, shielding his heart.

Meg felt as if she could have stayed like that forever, her slim arms wrapped around this large shadow, and the feeling of his body pressed against hers, innocent and resting. He smelled of candles and curtains, remnants of the opera house that had been his home, no, his domain. Presently, her hand moved from his back, snaking upwards until she reached his soft hair. It filled her slender fingers, each strand like an old friend, belonging in her grasp. Then she stroked it softly, her own hair tickling her chin as she leaned towards his face.

She wanted to speak, but there were no words she could say, nothing she could ask that would have yielded a proper answer from him now. The only way she could communicate with him was through movements and murmurs. But he himself broke the silence between them, and his voice filled the room with deafening authority, though he was only whispering her name.

"Meg..." he began, his voice like velvet. "Meg, forgive me. I do not understand it, I saw you sitting there near the window as the moonlight bathed you in a lonely glow, and I grew afraid! I was terribly frightened as you turned your golden head and smiled at me and took my rose. Were you an illusion? An angel come to greet me as I lay dying? For surely the sudden grip on my heart meant death. I was afraid you would fade away or be stolen by the night that surrounds us, so I had to come to you, to feel you for myself and see that you were really there." He stopped and sighed deeply. "You are so different," he murmured again, "I cannot bear to see you in the nighttime like this, you do not embrace it as Christine did, you shy from it, like it would swallow you up and take you away..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Meg whispered into his ear, trying to reassure him. Christine would have continued to hold him, but Meg suddenly pushed him away, tenderly. Her small arms held him fast and she looked straight into his eyes. "Erik, I will not leave you. Such suffering! Never again will you be alone."

She had tried to say the right words, but she felt as if whatever she was saying to him now would not get through. He looked down at the ground, muttering, "But she...but she left...she left me all alone..." he seemed to be remembering something from the past, his mind somewhere else now. "I asked her to go, to leave me alone to hide away...she left with him, only once glancing back at me...I told her to, but she really left..." his voice trailed off as he continued to stare at the floor. Meg finally let go of him and he sank down on his knees.

"Christine!" he whispered into the darkness. The only light came from the moon outside. Meg's heart felt as if it were slowly being crushed by a terrible weight. It beat heavily like a drum, the rhythm of a foreboding macabre, her own melody playing out. He still loved her, Christine was haunting him even now. Meg shook her head. Of course he still loved her, it had only been yesterday that he had held her in his arms, singing their enthralling duet above the breathless audience. Still, it hurt to realize this.

Wordlessly, Meg rose from her seat and turned on the oil lamp that was hanging on the wall. Now the room shown with a warm yellow glow, and the flame flickered softly like candlelight. The light seemed only to drive Erik further into despair, though Meg had hoped that it would have a calming affect. She eyed him worriedly and rushed to his side once again, to hold him. Again his cheeks were damp with the trail of new tears, and his eyes were red and watery. He seemed to be recoiling from her, ashamed of his behavior. "Don't...don't look at me," he begged in a cracked voice.

Erik was so confused, so torn in his mind. His Angel of Music continued to haunt his thoughts, her voice searing his mind. He saw her beautiful face, her doll-like eyes and pink lips. He saw her singing for him beneath the opera house in his catacombs, and he saw her succumbing to his seduction, her innocent eyes wide with fear and awe. She had been afraid of him, but even more so, she had been drawn to him. He could see the want in her eyes, the clear desire they held, and he had been exhilarated at the promise. He remembered the feeling of her soft, slender throat in his rasping hands, and the smell of her thick ringlets of hair as he held her close, singing gently into her ear so that only she would know what he was saying.

But she was gone.

That dream, that beauty had fled away, and he was only left with a burning in his heart. The promise of companionship and love she represented was gone, snuffed out like a candle. And yet her image lingered in his mind, her voice whispered sweetly in his ears, and her scent stayed with him, tormenting him. She was everywhere still, and he wanted to grasp her, but she was gone, fading away like early mist. He sank deeper and deeper into despair, forgetting the way back. The memory of Christine was slowly dragging him down, and he was being carried away, helplessly.

Suddenly he felt arms surrounding him, clutching him tightly as if trying to stop him from moving away. It wasn't so much the physical contact as the mental one that shook him. He had forgotten where he was, but now her embrace, yet again, was pulling him out of the darkness. "Meg..." he whispered wordlessly. Though he had not voiced her name, for some reason, she reacted as if she had heard him.

Meg had heard something, like a faint melody on the wind. It had been her name, breathed out as a sigh. Erik was finally looking at her now, seeing her truly. He had been so lost in this thoughts that he looked surprised to find her so close to him. Meg couldn't even smile anymore though, she only knew that she wanted to take away his pain, but how could she, when his thoughts were so full of Christine? How could she make him forget?

Erik felt the sun blazing in his heart, a warmth like none he had ever felt encompassed him and all around him there was a feeling of safety and comfort. The tides of the ocean seemed to rush through his veins and the symphony of the trees rustled in his mind. Meg had just kissed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Meg closed her eyes softly. Her first deep kiss.

She had been surprised at her sudden action, yet even more so when his lips received hers and kissed her back. She wanted to continue this duet with him, the music their hearts were both singing joined in perfect unison, beating together and crying out together. Was this how all kisses were? Nothing was sweet about the exploding passion she felt, it was raw and hungry, like a starving peasant begging for food. Meg felt as if Erik would devour her, body and soul; plunge her into his sable mind and let her become a part of his tormented world.

She felt his cool hand touch the base of her neck, holding her to him, pushing her closer forward against his powerful kiss. Meg couldn't think anymore, her mind was shutting down so that her body could focus on its natural desires.

However, when she felt as if he had stolen the very breath from her and her lungs screamed for release, he let her go, his soft lips parted from hers, plump and moist from the massage. Her eyes flew open immediately, demanding to know why they were apart, but when she saw his morose face, all her desires melted away, slowly like a receding tide, and she felt herself blush at how much she had wanted him but moments before. It was all so sudden.

He breathed huskily, the craving for her was obvious from his eyes, but though they were passionate, they held a calm fire. He looked at her now, paralyzing her completely, trapping her so that she felt as if she would do whatever he wished of her. Erik turned to look at the floor, "I can't," he breathed.

Words had left her, her embarrassment and wounded heart crushing her softly, like a flower petal. She felt one silent tear slip past her eye and streak a lonely road down her cheek, unexpected and sudden. Meg shook her head, reaching her arms out to him.

"No!" he bellowed, rising. "Don't touch me! I can't do this, please, I only wanted to bid you farewell," his words were cold now, each one a dagger piercing her. "Do not cry for me," he said softly now, eyeing her face.

"I could not bear to hurt you as Christine hurt me," he whispered, not daring to look into her eyes. "I have nothing to give you, nothing at all. To her, I offered my world, my music, myself. But she turned it all away. I could never do that for anyone else again," he lowered his voice even more, "especially you, who knew her true heart."

Meg trembled with unshed tears. She felt a deluge behind her eyes, threatening to burst out in sobs of loss. What was he saying? She did not want to hide her face from him and so she turned to look at him again and made him watch her cry. He could not just toy with her heart like this, ignore her feelings and cast her aside. She did not know at the time, but Erik was in terrible pain, watching her anguish. It was not merely guilt at being the cause of her tears, it was that he knew he could not console her, not because he physically could not, but because he was not allowed to. This beautiful, pure girl was falling in love with him, and it was not because he had coerced her or manipulated her feelings. He had never sung for her or confessed to her his feelings. She had loved him because of him. Meg's love for him was innocent.

Which made it all the more real.

There was only one word racing across Meg's mind, _why?_ Why was he pushing her away? Why couldn't he allow himself to be happy?

Without warning, Erik knelt down towards her, his gloved hand cupping her chin. They both stared at each other a moment and he finally smiled. It was not mocking or laced with innuendos, it was simply a smile. "My dear Little Giry," he began, "You are a friend to me, a sweet child, nothing more. You are an extension of your mother, a kind woman who genuinely cares for me." He looked suave, as if he had suddenly gotten control of himself, changing in character in a brief instant. It was unsettling.

Meg began to shake her head, unbelieving what he was saying to her. This only caused him to smile again, as if she really were a child, and he was just trying to humor her. "Meg," he said again, "We must part ways now. Thank you for consoling my wounded heart. I know that I now have at least one friend in this world, and I am not lonely anymore." Now he turned to pick up the rose that she had dropped, and took her shaking hand in his, placing the flower in it. It reminded him of how Christine had taken his hand and placed his marriage ring back. He was offering her this rose as a parting gift, something to remember him by, though it would last for but a week at most. But there was a difference. Erik did not look at Meg with a sad, pitying expression as Christine had done for him. He was smiling at the girl, hoping to turn her away kindly.

"Live," he nodded simply, "live and be happy, dearest friend."

Then, he bent down and kissed her forehead. His mind was set, he was going to leave her and give her back to her mother. She would be happy to spend the rest of her days without his gloomy presence. He did not know what happiness he could offer her, or if he could ever be as a good a friend to her as she was to him. He had to leave her in order to protect her. He had tried bringing someone down to his world once, and that had failed miserably, with pain on both sides. How could he try to do so again, and so soon after the first? No, it was better this way, to leave her when her feeling were still raw and early, and especially since they'd probably be easier to suppress. It did not matter how much he cared for her, because protecting her was all that mattered. Making sure she stayed sweet and innocent was what mattered.

However, the girl had other ideas. She did not plan to let him leave so easily. When he kissed her forehead, she had closed her eyes to relish the sensation, but when he began to move away, she held him, her smooth hands cupping his face. She saw right through him. With a look of pure worry and devotion she whispered, "What are you afraid of?"

Erik was taken aback by the question, and he didn't know how to answer. He froze under her gaze because now he knew that he could not hide the truth from her.

"I can help you," she began, "but only if you allow me to." She let go of him now, though she still held him with her gaze, "I do not ask for your love, and I do not offer myself as a replacement in your heart. I only want to help you. You say I am your friend, so then why leave me?"

He was silent for a moment, brooding on what he should do. He wanted her to be with him, but how could he ask that of her? He would only be a burden.

She could not guess why he wouldn't speak, and she thought that perhaps he had been shaken by their kiss, so she said, "I only kissed you because I thought I could make you forget," her eyes timidly looking up at him.

"Forget what?" he finally murmured.

"Everything," she breathed nervously. They both knew she had meant to say Christine.


	5. Chapter 5

He didn't stay long after that. Erik stood up without a word and headed for the door. Before he left, he turned slightly to look at Meg, still on her knees, and his handsome side glowed warmly in the candlelight. He didn't smile or nod at her; he merely gave her a last glance and began to walk away.

Meg wanted to reach for him, to cry out words that would make him turn around or come back, but she found that she could do nothing. He had left her; he didn't want to be with her at all! She didn't know where to go or what to do from here; her mind could only picture that half of his face, turning towards her before he disappeared into the darkness.

Erik stalked down the hallways of Notre Dame, already comfortable with its hollow corridors and dank walls. It reminded him of the Opera House, except that this place had a different atmosphere to it, he felt more exposed, but also more safe, however he still remained in the shadows; old habits. His trained ears could hear her still inside the room. He should not have left her there, all alone, but this was the way it had to be. No longer would he try to reach for something as beautiful as love, it was not for him. The pain that came with it wasn't worth it, after all.

Overdramatic. That was the way he lived his life. Everything was always so pompous and extravagant, all the niceties of life to make up for the hideousness he held within, not just his physical deformity, but that of his tainted soul. As Erik walked down the shadowy hallway he suddenly realized something about himself. Something inborn and parasitic, a drudgery that had been lurking in his very being since his life had began. He realized that he was exhausted. Tired of this life with its ups and downs. Sometimes he found joy in the simplest things, a rare beauty in a moment, but these moments would always pass, it was inevitable. And just as always, there were moments of dread and fear, of pain and sadness that followed every smile. What a mockery it all was, what strife everything held. His hand clenched unconsciously beneath his cape. What kind of a life was this? Did he wish to be carefree? No. That would only be monotonous. To continuously feel joy and freedom, that was no way of life. True living was struggle; happiness could only be found after knowing anguish.

These thoughts circled around and around in his head, his busy mind completely focused on them that he had not noticed her until he almost emerged from the shadows into her viewpoint. She smelled the same and looked the same; it had only been a couple of days after all. Though her back was turned to him, Erik knew who it was, those heavy brown locks draping across her shoulders and the fragile figure hidden beneath. She was the main event after the curtain call, the one who always held center stage in his eye, and still, even now, his emotions were being boiled up inside of him. All thoughts of life and living, and joy and sadness and reason, all of it left him as soon as he saw her again.

Christine...

He was a dog, a puddle, a nuisance to her now. How the very sight of her could melt him so, turn him obedient and old and worn at the same time. And no, she was not alone, of course not. She would never be again, not now, not ever. There was her trusted knight in shining armor, he whom this girl had chosen to protect her, to be with her forever. Erik was not jealous of him, seeing them together now, smiling sweetly, arms entwined, it was all too thick and coated. What pleasure would there be in this union? Did they make each other cry? Did they sooth each other's wounds afterwards? No, everything was joy and freedom with those two, they would always be happy together, but that was not true living at all. They would always be in the sunshine, never again in darkness, but what would light be without a shadow? Erik gritted his teeth as he watched them. He would have given her sweet darkness, the beautiful nighttime. The excitement and seduction of the world behind the sunlight, his domain and his life. They would not have been happy together, they would have suffered and relished and lived!

She was almost gone now, like a vision, a dream. She and Raoul were probably preparing their wedding, asking for a blessing. She was clad in a sunny yellow dress and white gloves, her rosy cheeks smiling at the priest.

What fate had led him here, to this moment, to witness the beginning of their life together? What mocking presence had guided him for this? Was he to stop them? Was this his chance to win back the woman he loved and take her away into darkness once again? He could easily overpower Raoul in this state; the man still held injuries from the previous few nights ago, and their arms being locked together was only Christine supporting him from collapsing.

Erik reached out his hand, it emerged from the shadows slowly, methodically inching towards her, his angel. But something in her expression made him stop. Christine had turned her head now to walk out the door with Raoul and her back was not to Erik, so he could see. In her eyes she held delight and innocence of a carefree nature, but that was only a twinkle, only an instant in her frame. This was a mask to hide something deep within her true self, much like the mask that Erik himself always wore. However, her mask was not to hide an ugliness, it was to hide a truth that she had found. From her deep brown eyes Erik could see a sadness, a guilt and regret in her expression, and it hit his heart, crushing it gently. So she was not carefree after all.

It was like an emblem for her, this deep pain she held inside, it was the guilt at having left her phantom in his catacombs, sailing away as if to nirvana, never again to return. Forever, Christine would be plagued by his presence in her mind, his soft, melodic voice whispering in her ears at night, every night, haunting her dreams, the touch of his seamless glove. Yet with time, she would not be so tortured, she would stop dreaming about him and he would be left only as a memory for her, but never would she forget. This, she knew, as she held Raoul's hand and looked into his face, smiling her fake, sad smile. She loved Raoul like no other, and he loved her, this was true, but she would always remember her phantom and what he had offered to her, she would always feel the guilt of leaving him behind and choosing another, and she would always have a doubt, a regret about her decision.

Erik enclosed his fingers around nothing as he failed to grasp her. All this, he had seen in her eyes, he had read it like an open diary to her heart, and he smiled. So, this was his gift to her. He had granted her this anguish in her life, this struggle for her to bear, and always she would carry it. She would not be at peace or wholly content, which was wonderful, because this meant that she could live. Again, he felt that being blithe and untroubled was not the way people were meant to live, and so he had given Christine the ultimate parting gift, his haunting memory.

Shying back into the shadows Erik realized why he had been led to this moment. It was so he could reach out his hand to grasp nothing, it was so that he could finally let her go.

Meg was frozen on the floor, her legs refusing to budge. She began thinking back to when she had first glimpsed him in the shadows. She had been but a child then, yet still obedient and dutiful. She had seen her mother speaking to someone behind the curtain, though there were no rehearsals at the time and the stage crew was off duty. When she had begun walking towards her mother, she suddenly turned to Meg and said, "Come, let's go now ma fille," and she pushed her along, but Meg had turned her head to look behind them. There, through the curtain she had glimpsed a white mask floating in the air, or so it seemed, for everything else was enshrouded in black and only the white mask could be seen.

Since then, the girl had always believed that the Phantom of the Opera truly was a real ghost who haunted the place and that her mother was the only person who could control him. For this reason, she had always wanted to meet him, because he couldn't be too bad if her mother could talk to him so easily. It wasn't until Christine had told her about the Phantom being her "angel of music" and voice teacher that Meg really began to understand that the phantom was more of a man than anything else, and this only heightened her curiosity. She wanted to meet him and become his friend. Her mother had told her about the phantom who was lonely, living in the opera house.

However, Christine had gotten to him first, she was the one who he loved, who he wished to share his world with, and all that time, Meg worried over her, she also wished that she could take her place.

Now Erik was slipping away again, she could not hold onto him, her feelings were not enough for him. She was torn, a thunderstorm raged inside her, the torrents of instability and confusion rushing in her mind. What should she do? Should she go after the man whom she loved? It was all so fast, too fast. When had she begun loving him? When had her youthful curiosity turned to infatuation? Didn't these things take time? Yes, time. She needed time to sort out her feelings for him. She would wait and then decide what to do.

If she still cared for him in this way, she would pursue him. But was this what she should do? This was her chance to be with him, but he was still so raw from a previous love, he wasn't ready for her yet, and she needed to leave him to his own devices before offering her love to him. Wasn't that what she needed to do?

Meg's decision was to get up and start walking. She was conscious of her feet taking steps, but she had no idea where they were leading her, after all, she had not known which direction Erik had taken, or if he were still within her reach. What if he had gone away already? How long had it been since she had sat there, reminiscing? And most of all, what would she do, if she saw him?


End file.
